


No Gem is Worth More Than You

by HeiNico



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeiNico/pseuds/HeiNico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU.  After Bard meets Thranduil during the BoFA incident, they are revealed to be soulmates.  If only they could figure out if they have said their words to each other yet.  This version of soulmarks uses the most important words that your soulmate will ever say to you.  Tradition dictates that you shall not tell each other until both sets of words have been said in order to not influence each other, which always works out awkwardly, but none more so than in this situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What is a Gem Compared to Love?

The people of Laketown had been spurned by the King Under the Mountain. They did not earn even a piece of gold after all of the promises made by Thorin during his speech in Laketown. Anyone that could break their word or turn their eyes from suffering was no friend to the people of Laketown.

Thranduil, on the other hand, aided them despite his secondary intentions. After receiving aid from King Thranduil, the people of Laketown that had survived Smaug’s attack and reached the ruins of Dale under Bard’s leadership knew they owed him their lives. Slowly but surely, they were arming themselves from Dale’s dusty armory.

As the people of Laketown armed themselves, Gandalf strode towards King Thranduil’s tent. The wizard had arrived earlier in the day to warn Thranduil and the leader of the Men about armies of Orcs heading their way despite the elves and men seeing no sign of them.

The argument continued for quite some time. The day was coming to a close when Gandalf turned to Bard to ask if he agreed with King Thranduil.

“Bowman. Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?” Gandalf questioned.

Looking as if he were now agreeing with Lord Thranduil’s negative commentary on wizards, Bard stated, “It will not come to that. This is a fight they cannot win.”

On silent feet, Bilbo sneaks up behind the two of them and says, “That won’t stop them! You think the dwarves will surrender? They won’t. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf exclaims and leads him into the war tent set up when King Thranduil arrived.

“If I am not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards,” Thranduil states evenly.

“Yes,” Bilbo murmurs. “Sorry about that,” he continues sheepishly. “I came to give you this.”

Bilbo pulls a small bundle out of his coat and unwraps it. There gleaming in the dirty packaging is the Arkenstone.

“The Heart of the Mountain! The King’s Jewel,” Thranduil mutters in awe.

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard stated. “How is this yours to give?”

At those words, Thranduil starts from his place on his throne. Covertly, he stares at the bargeman in utter surprise. This is a jewel that has ensnared the stubborn dwarves that had not fallen to even Sauron’s rings of power, unlike the race of Men. Bard was of the race of Man, yet he seemed impervious to this jewel. If what he suspects is correct, then even some of the greatest elves had fallen to this jewel.

To an elf that had seen many fall to the temptations of what appeared to be mere jewelry, these words were significant. To Bard, these words were his resignation at war, at becoming king, at changing his life as he knew it. They were the most important words that would be said from Bard to Thranduil.

Thranduil knew this and wondered. Bard was a simple man, a Dragonslayer to be sure, but a simple man nonetheless. Even more importantly, those were the words that he never thought he would hear, and they were coming from this incredible man.

“I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure,” Bilbo states.

“Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty,” Bard questions.

“I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. And suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine; but they are also brave and kind...and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can. But Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you were owed. There will be no need for war,” Bilbo explains.

The two leaders looked at Bilbo with respect, while Gandalf practically beamed with his pride.

“Swear that you give this gem to us freely and will not seek to take it back,” Thranduil suddenly requested, looking a little entranced with the gem.

“Do you really believe that to be necessary, Thranduil?” Gandalf queried.

“If this gem is what I think it is, then I believe it is more than necessary, Mithrandir,” Thranduil sneered.

“If that is what it takes, then I swear that I give the Arkenstone freely to you and will not seek to take it back,” Bilbo utters, a little confused.

At his place at Thranduil’s side, Bard tries to keep the confusion off of his own face.

“Well, I should probably be returning to the mountain now,” Bilbo mutters awkwardly.

“That would be far too dangerous after you have taken the King’s Jewel ransom, Bilbo Baggins. I shall have you set up here for the night,” Gandalf states.

Then, Gandalf whisked the Hobbit away for food and sleep, leaving Thranduil and Bard alone once more.

“What was that about, my lord?” Bard asked.

“There are jewels that ensnare even the most strong-willed, Dragonslayer. I believe this Arkenstone to be one of them, one of the Silmaril,” Thranduil answered.

“Aren’t those the three jewels with light from the Two Trees inside that a bunch of elves fought over?”

“You just overly simplified centuries of history, but yes. That is essentially correct, Dragonslayer,” Thranduil smiled.

“Just call me Bard, my lord. My ancestor had already done half of the work, and my son helped me kill the dragon anyways,” Bard sighed.

“Bard, then. In that case, you may simply call me Thranduil,” offered the Elvenking.

“Fair is fair, Thranduil,” Bard accepted.

“I am curious, however, how you are not tempted by the Arkenstone. The Silmarilli are the most beautiful jewels in creation. They are designed to tempt and ensnare the desires of sentient beings, and that is not even mentioning the jewel’s worth as declaring one King Under the Mountain or its monetary value,” Thranduil mused.

“As beautiful as the gem is, Thranduil, I am far more concerned with feeding my children and the rest of my people to gaze at a gem as if it is more precious than life,” Bard rejoined.

“That makes you a stronger man than all I have met. We will bargain with Thorin tomorrow at dawn. You should carry the jewel. If it is a Silmaril like I suspect, then I will be susceptible to its temptations more so than you,” Thranduil offered.

“Alright. Then, I will see you tomorrow morn, Thranduil,” accepted Bard.

Bard rewrapped the gem in its rough packaging, put it in his jacket’s inner pocket, and left to see to his children. There was a lot to be done until tomorrow. There were battle preparations to be made if the negotiations fell through, and Bard wanted to see his children well and get some sleep after the trying days shortly behind him.


	2. The Worth of a Gem

Bard was still sitting on his horse in mild shock after seeing Thorin, King Under the Mountain, almost throw the Hobbit off of the ramparts. Only Gandalf’s quick actions and fearsome reputation saved Bilbo from a painful death.

Thorin was even madder than Bard had thought. He almost killed the one who only tried to save him and faced a dragon out of only loyalty to friends. Yet Thorin would throw all of that in his face, banish him, and paint his people with the same brush of his own insanity.

The only thing Bard could do here, though, was to speak for his people.

“Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?” Bard questioned.

The validity of the Arkenstone had been accepted by all parties after Bilbo professed to taking it as his fourteenth share, so Thorin should now know that Bard and Thranduil had all of the bargaining pieces. However, Thorin just looks westward to a cresting hill in expectation.

“Why should I buy back that which is rightfully mine?” Thorin queried as he paced the ramparts.

The elves and men look to each other in disbelief. Gandalf looks even more exasperated with Thorin. Bard is even more exasperated than ever, and Thranduil is more than done with stubborn dwarves.

“Keep the stone. Sell it. Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it,” Thranduil advised.

Bard’s grasp on the Arkenstone tightened. All of the questions that he has spent his whole life asking have been answered in three short sentences from the Elvenking. What stone could be so valuable that the Steward of Gondor would pay a good price for it? Why would he, a mere bargeman, have it in the first place?

Now, all he had were new questions. Why does Thranduil trust him with what he thinks to be a Silmaril? One of the greatest treasures of his people? Was this trust why these words were his soulmark? Does the Elvenking show trust that rarely? What do these words mean to Thranduil that they are the most important words that he will ever say to Bard? Has Bard even said his own words in return to Thranduil?

How is Bard supposed to know if the proper response to meeting your soulmate? Elves tend to be lucky enough in meeting their soulmates, so they have more of an idea of how to deal with it. Men, on the other hand, have historically never had much to do with their own soulmates. They were spread so far geographically and so likely to die before they said or heard their words that most of the race of Men just married for money, political advantage, or fondness.

Bard’s contemplation is interrupted by Thorin’s exclamations.

“I will kill you! Upon my oath, I will kill you all!” Thorin screams.

“Your oath means nothing! I’ve heard enough,” Thranduil retorts.

Gandalf and Balin try to convince Thorin to lay down his arms, to prevent this fight, but he is unshakeable in his madness.

“Give us your answer. Will you have peace or war?” Bard asks expectantly.

A raven flies over the ramparts to land in front of Thorin. “I will have war,” Thorin proclaims in glee.

Clanking armor sounds from the west. Gandalf turns to see an army cresting over the hill led by Thorin’s cousin.

“Ironfoot,” Gandalf exclaims.

Bard takes all of his scattered thoughts and contemplations about soulmates and Elvenkings and shelves them to the back of his mind. He will have time for them after the war if he is not dead. Right now, he has to protect his people and make sure his children live through this. They will need that gold to rebuild, and this war will provide that no matter how distasteful it is.


	3. A Battle is Fought; A Battle is Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the revelation of being soulmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys. I kind of lost my inspiration for this. I did the best I could to wrap it up and leave you with a conclusion, but I don't know if it is the best. I at least finished a fanfiction for once, so enjoy what is there!

The war is over, if it can even be called a war. The Battle of Five Armies is what they are calling it in whispers over the wounded and dead. Like the group of men he led could be called an army. And all that Bard could think about was why Thranduil had brushed him off when he tried to check on him after he had made sure that his children were alright.

His people, and they were definitely his people now, were as hale as could be expected after such a trying battle. The wounded were being treated in the medical tents side by side with the elves, and the dead were moved to designated places according to their race. His children were a little battle shocked, but otherwise, they were fine. His little family was a lot better off than most others.

Yet, Thranduil was acting distant as compared to the brief interludes before the battle. The word around the camp was that Thranduil’s son was safe even though he had left for some reason. The Elvenking’s son had disobeyed him or some sort of nonsense to that effect and felt that he had to leave. Political problems causing family problems were one of the top reasons that he didn’t want to have anything to do with becoming the ‘King of Dale’ right up there with the terror of having so many people relying on him.

Thranduil probably had a lot more problems to deal with than his questions about soulmates, but they were important and had to do with Thranduil directly, so the Elvenking’s avoidance was getting a little bothersome. He would have to get Thranduil alone to talk with him. The only question was how.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thranduil was pacing in his tent. Where had he gone so wrong? His son was gone to seek Isildur’s heir and the rest of the Rangers. His wife’s necklace was still in that damned mountain. He had ignored Bard’s every attempt to converse with him out of fear that he would ruin that fledgling relationship so soon after its creation. And the wizard was practically oozing smug, “I told you so” vibes from every pore of his deceptively frail body.

Gandalf was lucky that he was still willing to host and guard the wizard and hobbit duo through Greenwood the Great after the post-battle clean up and negotiations were finished with. Just because he had been right about the Orc army and Legolas and his wife did not mean that he had the right to meander about with his self-righteous scruples being waved in their faces.

Soft steps sounded from his tent’s entrance.

“I said I was not to be disturbed,” Thranduil drawled.

“Sorry for the intrusion, my lord. I have a couple of questions for you,” Bard said.

Thranduil managed to keep his twitch of surprise hidden from Bard’s meager vision, but it would have been unmistakably visible to any fellow elf. He was slipping. These past few days were bad for his self-control.

“Then ask your questions, bowman,” Thranduil ordered.

If he distanced himself enough early on, then it would hurt less later on.

“What is the proper manner of dealing with your soulmate when your words have been said, but you are unsure if you have said their words in return? Men don’t often have to deal with their own soulmates, but an elf should know, I would guess,” Bard asked.

Thranduil froze in the middle of getting wine ready for Bard, as he had many times in the days past, visibly enough for even Bard to notice it.

“Just by those words you have just said to me, I can confirm that you have said my words in return already. The proper response tends to be for the elves in question to subtly question each other about soulmates in the most roundabout way possible until it is obvious to everyone but themselves that they are soulmates, and the people around them finally expound that fact to them. Or sometimes a particularly bold elf will just barge in rather boldly with a question similar to the one that you just asked or do something else as bold as showing their words in order to figure out if their soulmate has already said their words,” Thranduil prattled on in shock of Bard’s bold words.

“Thranduil. Calm down. I didn’t know how to figure out if you knew you were my soulmate or not or if you had already said my words, so I just went with the most forthright questioning that I could manage,” Bard comforted. “Is there an issue of some sort with you being my soulmate?”

“Issue? No there is no problem with you being my soulmate. Humans have been the soulmates of elves before, although it is admittedly rare. The Lord of Imladris, Elrond, is a product of one such match. His ancestors met many centuries ago–” Thranduil said.

“I was not asking about the issue of elven soulmate relationships with men, Thranduil. I asked if your soulmate being me was an issue to you,” Bard cut Thranduil off midsentence.

“No,” Thranduil almost whispered.

“There is no issue for myself either. I suppose now I should ask you about the progression of soulmate relationships with elves and men,” Bard mused looking as if he had no such intention as he prowled closer to the vulnerable looking Thranduil.

Thranduil was a cold elf. He had been hardened into a diamond after centuries of ruling and loss. Thus, he had no idea how to handle the Dragonslayer creeping ever closer to him with a look of longing and desperate want in his eyes.

Bard closed the last bit of distance between himself and his soulmate and grasped Thranduil’s beautiful face between his hands. “Marriage and courtships are sealed with a kiss for men. I hope you don’t mind too terribly if we use one of my customs in this case. I’ll be sure to do this properly with your input later and introduce you to my children too, but right now I would really like to kiss you. May I?” Bard asked leaning ever closer to Thranduil.

“Yes,” Thranduil sighed.

Their lips met with an electric spark of desire, and a warm feeling of home came to reside in their souls as they had never known before.

Both of them were widowers that had lost their wives too soon with children they loved dearly and feared to lose. There was so much working against them in life. Bard was a bowman turned Dragonslayer turned King of Dale, which did not mean much at the moment with Dale in ruins. Thranduil was King of Greenwood and had lived for centuries more than Bard.

Yet as their fingers entwined and their mouths parted from their kiss, they leaned into each other live tangling ivy. Their foreheads rested gently against each other as they breathed the very air that came from their soulmate’s lungs in joy at the sign of their life. They knew that despite every hardship in the far past and near future, they would be able to work past it as long as they did it together.

“Never parted,” Thranduil said gently.

“Always entwined,” Bard sighed.

The mythical tales about soulmates finally made sense. It was not a soul that completed yours but one that made yours grow. If they grew together, then there was a soulmate.


End file.
